The Second Quarter Quell
by thegirlwiththehockeystick
Summary: This is the story of the 50th Hunger Games, told from Maysilee's point of view. I hope you enjoy!
1. The Reaping

Maysilee woke to sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. The empty bed next to hers told her that her twin sister, Mavis, was already up. She wondered why she had been allowed to sleep this late - usually she and Mavis collected clothes that needed mending before breakfast. Their parents ran the District 12 tailor, and since no one in the impoverished District 12 could afford to buy new clothes, the Donners were constantly repairing rags that looked like they might desintigrate any minute. Then she remembered. Today is the day of the reaping.

Right. The reaping. The day of the year when the Capitol randomly chose two children from each district to compete in the Hunger Games. As punishment for the Rebellion, the government of Panem created the Hunger Games, a televised competition where twenty four children battle to the death, to prove their superiority over the twelve Districts. Only this year, since its the Second Quarter Quell, the 5oth anniversary of the rebellion, the Capitol is sending twice as many Tributes into the Arena. Forty eight children. Four from each District.

The reaping always scared Maysilee. She never wanted anyone to be reaped. It was the kind of thing you would never wish on anyone, even your worst enemy. And of course, Maysilee was always worried that her friend, the healers daughter, would be reaped. And her worst fear of all was that either she or Mavis would be reaped. Maysilee didnt know what she would do if Mavis was reaped. They were so close. And to be honest, Maysilee didnt think Mavis would stand much chance in the Hunger Games. Not that she would either. The Donners lived in the wealthier part of town (wealthy for District 12, although they were by no means extremely well off), and didnt have much practice hunting or surviving in the wilderness. The farthest Maysilee had ever been outside her district was a few feet under the electric fence to pick strawberries from a small bush right outside the district. Technically, she wasnt supposed to be there, but the electricity on the fence was hardly ever on, and the peacekeepers didnt care, since she wasnt doing anything bad.

Maysilee washed her face and combed her long blonde hair. She had to look presentable for the reaping, in the off-chance she was called. She tried not to think about the possibility. She knew the odds were in her favor. Their family, like most of the families in Town, had never needed tesserae, so her name was only the minimum amount of times for a sixteen year old. She knew there were some kids, especially in the Seam, whose names were in the reaping 20-40 times because of all the tesserae they needed to feed their families. Still, Maysilee always worried for her family on the reaping day. Especially this year, since there was double the chance of being reaped.

Maysilee tried to push the thought out of her mind, and went downstairs for breakfast. As she had guessed, her family was already there. Mavis and their mother had set out a breakfast of bread, goat cheese, and the strawberries Maysilee had collected the day before. They ate. No one talked much.

At one, Maysilee and Mavis made their way to the town square, where the reaping would take place. The Capitol workers had set up a stage in the middle for the District 12 escort, Rada Powell, to call the names from. Maysilee and Mavis joined the other sixteen year old girls and waited, hand in hand, for the reaping to begin.

Welcome, welcome, Rada began, her voice echoing through District 12s main square. It is time to decide the tributes for the 50th Annual Hunger Games - the Second Quarter Quell! she announced, almost giddily. As you know, in celebration of the Second Quarter Quell, we are having twice the amount of tributes! Rada continued. So, I will be drawing four names this year - two girls and two boys. May the odds be ever in your favor!

This was it. The moment she had been dreading all day, all week, and deep down, since the last reaping. She squeezed Maviss hand even more tightly, childishly hoping that maybe if she held on tight enough, neither of them would be reaped. Her other hand found the hand of her best friend, the healers daughter. Together, the three of them waited, holding their breath, too scared to do anything else.

The first tribute will be...Laurel Taylor! Rada called.

A scared, thirteen year old girl walked tentatively up to the stage. Maysilee recognized her from school. Shed seen her in the hallways before. Laurel was from the Seam. Maysilee knew she had two younger brothers, and had taken out tesserae in order to feed them. Laurel looked terrified, and Maysilee couldnt blame her. Being a District 12 tribute was essentially a death sentence, even for an eighteen year old tribute. Unfortunately, a small, underfed, thirteen year old girl barely had a chance. No one volunteered for her. Who would? There are no older siblings, and besides, no one ever volunteers to be a tribute in District 12.

Our next tribute is... Rada groped around in the bowl of names. Maysilee grabbed Maviss hand harder. Only one more tribute and then were safe, she thought. ...is Maysilee Donner!

What? No. This couldnt be happening. This must be wrong. The odds were supposed to have been in her favor. Maysilee pried her fingers free from Maviss iron grip and walked to the stage in silence. She was stunned. How did this happen? She was glad that she had taken the time to carefully arrange her hair this morning, because later this evening the entire country of Panem would be watching her pilgrimage to the stage, scouting her out. She had to appear calm, confident even, if she wanted any sponsors. Maysilee climbed up onto the stage and stood, face emotionless, looking out at the sky behind the crowd. She knew she had to avoid eye contact, especially with Mavis, to keep from breaking down crying.

Rada was ready to move on to the next tribute. Our first male tribute will be...Jacy Dunn! A tall, muscular boy from the Seam joined them on the stage. Maysilee knew Jacy. He was a year below her, although he was as tall as some of the eighteen year olds. He competed in the wrestling tournaments at school, and usually did pretty well. But although he was strong physically, he wasnt all that resourceful. Jacy looked stoic as he stood to face the audience. Hell probably get a bunch of sponsors, she thought, before turning her attention to Rada as she called the last tribute.

And our fourth and final tribute for the 50th Annual Hunger Games will be...Haymitch Abernathy!

Haymitch Abernathy. Maysilee actually knew Haymitch well. He was in the grade ahead of her, but their fathers knew each other before Haymitchs father died in a mining accident, and the Donners had sort of looked out for the Abernathys ever since. Nothing major, but a loaf of bread here, some extra goat cheese there. Haymitch was cynical and crass, but it worked for him. He wasnt bad looking, either, with his dark Seam hair and eyes, and his strong build. In fact, Maysilee had to admit that she had always been a little attracted to Haymitch. Not that that mattered now, she sighed. Out of all people, why did it have to be Haymitch. The odds really werent in her favor today.

Here are your District 12 tributes! Rada announced excitedly, gesturing at the tributes for added effect. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.


	2. Good Byes

I wait quietly in the room in the Justice Building the peacekeepers put me in. I want to act strong, but I can feel my entire body shaking. Its not so bad a first, but the trembling increases, and by the time Mavis enters the room I'm practically a mess. I fling myself into her arms, and lose myself in her embrace. We are both crying now. We stand there, entwined, for a good five minutes before Mavis releases me. I wipe my eyes, attempting to regain my composure. Mavis pulls out something from the pocket of her dress.

"Take this as your token," she says.

"What?" I ask, too distraught to take in her words.

"You're allowed one item from home in the Arena. Take this," she entreats.

I look down at the item in her hand. Its a small, gold pin. A bird. But not just any bird. A Mockingjay. Mavis's favorite kind of bird. I remember, when I'd take her to the Meadow to gather strawberries with me, she'd always find the mockingjays and sing to them. They loved to imitate her songs. My hands clasp around the cool metal pin.

"Of course," I tell her.

We hug one last time. Neither one of us speaks. There are no words to communicate these emotions we are feeling. The dread, the grief, the anxiety, the terror, the pain, all rolled into one. So we just look at each other, until the peacekeepers make Mavis leave, and then I am by myself, just like I will be for the short remainder of my life.


	3. The Train

I've never been on a train before, and its incredible. I can tell by looking out the window that we're moving faster than I thought anything could move. At this rate, we'll be in the Capitol, at the other end of Panem, in a matter of days. Rada leads the tributes to our rooms. They're all along the same hallway. I'm next to Laurel and across the hall from Haymitch. My room is nicer than anything I've ever seen. That's not much though, coming from District 12, where even the townspeople live almost in poverty. There's a large, comfortable looking bed in the center, a closet full of nice clothes, and a private bathroom with a fancy high-tech shower. I'm a mess, so I decide its a good time to try out the shower. Leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor, I step into the shower and experiment with the different settings until I find a gentle one with some sweet smelling soap. The shower relaxes me. I can feel the tears being washed from my face. I don't allow my mind to wander though, because I know that I let my thoughts go where they want to, I'll end up thinking of Mavis and home again. And I don't want to do that. Instead, I entertain myself by trying to figure out which District we must be passing through right now. There are no windows in the shower though, so I have no way to tell where we are. I'm guessing we must be between Districts, since we can't have possibly gone far enough to reach another one, even on the fast train.

I step out of the shower and dry off, feeling a lot better than before. Rada knocks on my door and tells me its time for dinner, so I put on a red shirt and a pair of dark blue pants, and find my way to the dining car. On the walk, I put a small braid down the left side of my long, blonde hair. My usual hairstyle. It began as sort of a nervous habit - I would always play with my hair in school, to keep my hands busy. It was kind of my coping mechanism. See, I had a cousin, Tarn. His family lived in the Seam. He and I were really close. He was almost like an older brother to me. And, well, when he turned eighteen, he went to work in the mines. Just like all the other men in the Seam. It was tough for our entire family. We knew how dangerous the mines could be. But Tarn was set on providing for his three younger siblings. He had been lucky, and made it through the reaping despite all the tessarae he took out, but he never wanted his siblings to have to take tessarae as well.

For about a year, everything was okay. Tarn worked 6 days a week in the mine. Some Sundays he would visit me and Mavis. Take us to the Meadow. He had been the one who showed me my strawberry bush. Or bring us presents he got in the Hob. Then one day, there was an accident in the mines. Mavis and I were at school. Some peacekeepers came to get us, along with Tarn's siblings. I was thirteen. That's the day I started braiding my hair. I haven't stopped since.

Jacy and Laurel were already in the dining car when I arrived. Rada was conferring with one of the Capitol servants, so the only person missing was Haymitch. Knowing Haymitch, he was probably sulking. He hates everything. Jacy was engaged in a friendly conversation with Laurel. He seems to be taking on a protective sort of "big brother" role with her. I think they were neighbors or something back in the Seam. It must be especially tough for them.

I pile a generous serving of lamb stew onto my plate. I've never seem this much food in my life. Jacy and Laurel look even more amazed. As I'm about to stuff my face, Haymitch stalks in and slumps into the empty seat next to me. I can tell he's angry. Probably at nothing in particular. Or maybe at the Capitol. I know he hates the Games. He thinks they're stupid. He thinks a lot of things are stupid. And suddenly, I can no longer focus on the food. All I can think about is Haymitch sitting right next to me. Only I'm not sure why. I've never noticed him like this before. I mean, yes, I admit that I've found him attractive for a while now. But that's a common fact. Every girl in my grade agrees that he's handsome. So why does it feel so much different this time? I decide to brush the feelings off. After all, this is the Hunger Games. I can't let myself get too attached to anyone. Not Jacy, not Laurel, not Haymitch. Especially not Haymitch. There's no room for confusion.

I take another bite of stew. It burns my tounge. But the pain helps take my mind off my feelings for Haymitch, and is a welcome relief. After dinner, I go back to my room, collapse on the bed, and fall asleep.


	4. Remake Room

The next morning I'm awakened by Rada and brought to another room on the train. There, I am greeted by a group of people I assume must be my prep team - the people who will remake me to look beautiful for the Games. A tall woman with bright pink skin and glittery tatoos up her arms introduces herself as Adorna. The man with smooth, emerald green hair, pale skin, and purple eyes is Florian. A second woman, with short, spiky golden yellow hair and royal blue tatoos on her face introduces herself as Orianna. They draw a bath, and wash me with various soaps and shampoos and goos. I step out of the bath feeling refreshed. Then my prep team remakes me to what they call "beauty base zero". Basically, they make me look perfect, but natural. Adorna, Florian, and Orianna pull and prod at my body until they seem satisfied. When I see myself in the mirror, I almost look like another person. My hair has been washed and untangled, my nails and hands look perfect, my skin is blemish-free. Any scars I picked up in my 16 years of life, they are now gone.

"Oh, you look _wonderful_" squeals Orianna.

"Simply stunning," Florian adds.

"Now, don't mess up our work," Adorna cautions.

"I won't," I tell her.

"Good. Now, you're done. Go get something to eat," Orianna advises.

"Okay," I oblige.

I wander through the train, and find my way back to my quarters. I'm only in a thin robe, since that's what my prep team put me in after they remade me, and I need a change of clothes. I find a green shirt and a pair of black pants and pull them on, and braid my hair. The clock in my room says its 1:00, so I decide to go see if lunch is in the dining car. As I'm walking through the hallway, I start thinking about the Games. What will the arena be like? We haven't watched the recap of the reapings yet - we're doing that tonight - so I don't even know who the other tributes are yet. They could be huge, scary careers. I'm so lost in thought, that I don't notice the person in front of me until I collide with it.

"Sorry!" I say. "I wasn't loo-" I look up and realize I walked straight into Haymitch. And suddenly, I can no longer form sentences. "I-I wasn't looking where I was going," I sputter. Cool. Awesome. Now he thinks I'm an idiot.

"It's okay," he replies, his voice stoic. I wish I could read his emotions. But he's too good at hiding them, so I guess I'm just going to have to let it go. I'm about ready to continue walking down the hall when I blurt out "Hey, I'm going to go see if there's any lunch in the dining car. Want to come?"

Oh no. Why did I do that? I don't know. It just sort of, came out without thinking. But why? I don't like him. I _can't _like him. But I do, my subconscious knows I do. It's my brain telling me I can't. This is just great.

"Sure," Haymitch says. "Might as well get some lunch. There's not going to be much food in that arena."

We walk down to the dining car in silence. Does he feel the awkwardness? Because I sure do. No, probably not. After all, I'm the one who likes him. Not the other way around. We sit down at the table and the Capitol servants bring us plates of sandwiches and fruit. We eat quitely, until Haymitch breaks the silence.

"So this sucks," he says.

"Yeah," I agree. "Sucks big time. But at least we get some great food first." I laugh a little, trying to lighten the mood. And it must have worked, because a tiny smile appears on Haymitch's face.

"True," he concedes. "I'm not usually one for optimism-"

"I've noticed," I say, somewhat sardonically, cutting him off.

"Hey. I'm not usually one for optimism, but you _are_ right. Maybe. I guess we all need a little optimism at a time like this." He stares at me, as if he's working something out in his head, trying to make up his mind. "Friends?" he finally asks.

"Sure," I say. "Friends. For now, at least." Haymitch nods, and we go back to eating our sandwiches.


	5. The Recaps

That evening, we watch the recap of the reapings. All of the tributes, plus Rada, gather in front of the television. We have no mentor. There has only ever been one victor from District 12 - Russell Brinkman won the 17th Hunger Games, but he died of morphling addiction seven or eight years ago. This means that it is just Rada helping us once we are inside the arena.

First is the reaping from District 1. A girl who looks to be about fourteen is reaped, but a tall girl with long, flowing light brown hair volunteers for her. Districts 1, 2, and 4 always have volunteers. Being a tribute is considered honorable there.

I zone in and out for the rest of the reapings. I catch snippets - a small, weasely girl from District 3, a large boy with red hair from 8, a girl with short, blonde hair and deep brown eyes from 10. Including the four of us from 12, there are 48 tributes in all.

After watching the recap of the reapings, I meander wearily back to my room and flop down on the bed. Seeing the reapings, it all makes it so much more real. I'm actually going to be in the Hunger Games. I'm actually going to be up against real people. I'm actually going to have to kill some of them.

This thought is too much, and I roll over onto my side and start doing this calming trick I developed after the mining accident. I count. And I count until I fall asleep.


End file.
